


An Improved State of Being

by CumbersomeWit



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Comfort fic, Episode 49B spoilers, Fix-It, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mild description of bodily harm, Night Vale is sorry, Reunion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-01
Updated: 2014-07-01
Packaged: 2018-02-07 00:06:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1877598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CumbersomeWit/pseuds/CumbersomeWit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As an apology, Night Vale has Carlos and Cecil reenact the night they gazed at the lights above the Arby's.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Improved State of Being

**Author's Note:**

> This is a literal post-episode 49B fix-it fic. Contains spoilers, lingering angst, and lots of fluff!

“The lights are the same, at least,” Carlos murmurs, gazing up at the sky. The colours shrink and expand, as if flustered at the compliment. Carlos smiles back, then holds his breath. This is the first time in a while that he has smiled and not felt guilty or terrified for it. The Smiling God is long in the past, and he is home, now. Accepted back after such a long time of living with the sting of rejection.

Cecil’s voice is low and soft, bringing him back to the quiet parking lot. “No matter how bright the Smiling God’s light shined, the lights above the Arby’s shone brighter. Or darker. For a while they were the only thing we could look at that didn’t blind us.”

Carlos’s throat tightens. He closes his eyes, tries to block the awful sting of the flippant “we” that does not include him. He’s here now. It’s fine. The way it should be. The metal of the car is warm against his back, and so too is Cecil, beside him, close enough to feel the shape of his presence. It seems like even the lights above the new Arby’s emit warmth, keeping them safe from the chill of the desert night.

Carlos breathes in the cool air and stretches. His breath catches in a wince.

They both look down at Carlos’s shoulder. The fabric of his lab coat is torn and bloodied, exposing crisp white bandages spotted with blood. Cecil’s expression tenses as Carlos fingers the edges of the bandage.

Carlos shakes his head. “It’s fine.” He winces through a nervous chuckle. “It’s strange, but it feels like Night Vale is trying to help us regain what we’ve lost,” Carlos explains. “My injures bear … an uncanny resemblance to, uh, those I had the last time we were here.”

“This is the one thing I wished not to recreate,” Cecil glowers.

Carlos shakes his head again. He looks back up at the sky, eyes flickering between the different colours in the lights. “This is the way it’s meant to be. I don’t know how to explain it, exactly, but …” Carlos hesitates. “Night Vale is … a living organism. The buildings are its bones, the people its organs, and their experiences are its cells. My current state is merely the body acting to reproduce the cells it has lost as accurately as possible.”

“We _didn’t have to lose you_.”

Carlos studies Cecil’s face, glaring at the void of the sky. “I don’t know about that. Coming back … felt like a way to prove myself. The final step of inauguration as a Night Vale citizen. But I’m talking about the Arby’s. And us, here. What we shared, Night Vale thinks it’s important enough to recreate. That the loss of the memories held within the Arby’s is enough to lessen Night Vale’s existence. Come on,” Carlos encourages Cecil, who’s moist eyes regard Carlos with a shocked sort of intensity. “How did we do this?”

Cecil blinks once, slowly. Then he quickly averts his gaze, face turning a vibrant plum colour. His words run together as he mumbles, “You put your hand on my knee.”

Carlos regards the aforementioned knee, close and inviting. He swallows. “Yes. Um.” He reaches out with a bandaged hand and curls it around Cecil’s knee. The soft fur flattens beneath his touch. Real. Solid.

Carlos glances up from under his lashes. Even Cecil’s ears are flushed. It still amazes him, sometimes, the influence he has over this wonderful man. “Then you, uh, put your head on my shoulder,” he stumbles.

Cecil immediately ducks, burrowing his head into Carlos’s shoulder. Carlos hisses.

“Sorry!” The weight readjusts, Cecil’s warm cheek now pressed into the exposed skin at the juncture between Carlos’s neck and shoulder. Carlos startles as an equally warm hand encloses his own.

“We didn’t do that,” Carlos mumbles.

“Mm. I’m just improving the memory. For Night Vale’s continued existence, of course.”

Carlos huffs a laugh, and feels Cecil’s cheek bunch into a smile. He turns his hand until it is palm up, threading their fingers together. Cecil squeezes back.

They look up at the sky in unison. The lights have changed colour, slightly. A warm plum glow dominates the shifting light, blanketing the town in a contented blush. An improved state of being, perhaps.


End file.
